


Saigon

by IndependenceDayChild17



Category: Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 11:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndependenceDayChild17/pseuds/IndependenceDayChild17
Summary: "Now that was a party."





	Saigon

_drip …_

_drip …_

You had come to Saigon for a funeral.

 

_drip …_

Seemed pretty ironic now.

 

_\--- earlier ---_

 

You stare at your drink intently. The dark brown liquid gently sloshing, taunting you. You hadn't had any alcohol in over fifteen years, a bourbon-and-nightmare-induced rampage forcing Mommy Dearest to become rather strict about the liquid you ingested.

 

Mattie glides into the chair across from you and chuckles. “Did the glass steal your cookies, darling?”

 

You frown and glare up at her. “No. It's just . . . been a while.”

 

Mattie’s face softens – how did she always know. “She’s not here, Mircalla. Let loose, live a little.” She tips her own drink back. “Gods’ know you need it after that. . . box.”

 

You cringe at her blunt reference to your seventy years of hell. She never was one to beat around the bush. Then again, maybe she thought you were over it. You weren't the only one plagued by nightmares. You tip the glass back and swallow.

 

It burns.

 

\---

 

_drip . . ._

Your head throbs and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. The smell of blood fills the room – sickening and enticing.

 

_drip . . ._

_drip . . ._

_\---_

“There you go, darling.” Mattie pushes another drink in front of you with a wicked grin. You sip this one more slowly and she chuckles. “So, I've heard you’ve been particularly broody lately.”

 

You roll your eyes and take another drink. “I thought this was supposed to be an escape from Mother.”

 

Mattie lets out a sad sigh. “There is no escape, Kitty. Only momentary dreams.”

 

You let out a humorless laugh and drain the rest of your drink. She does the same.

 

\---

 

_drip . . ._

The door opens and someone whirls past you, pushing a glass into your hand.

 

“Drink up, Kitten.”

 

\---

 

Mattie had gone to fetch another round and you were left – unfortunately – with only your thoughts. They turned, as they inevitably would, to Mother.

 

Maman had once told you, in a drunken, bloody haze, that your selfishness is what made you the best lure. That even when the victims were pleading with you, your need to please, to be the best, kept you alive.

 

At the time you hadn’t thought much about it (too intoxicated by the wine, the opium, the blood, - _her_ ) but later, you had thought she must mean all of her children. After all, they hated you in their own ways: Peter with his condemnations; Naqiyah and her vain jealousy; Alphonse and his cruel fists; even Quynh, whose baby you’d saved.

 

They were all dead now.

 

\---

 

_drip . . ._

You sit up to drink, the fresh blood surprising you, and open your eyes. You couldn't say the body hanging from the ceiling was shocking, just unexpected. You swallow down the blood from your cup forcefully, almost making you gag.

 

_drip . . ._

 

\---

 

Mattie had returned now and brought with her a boy. You look up long enough to recognize that he’s an American soldier, and return to scowling into your empty cup.

 

“Well, howdy!” He says, scooting into the booth next to you. “Can I buy you chicks a drink?”

 

Mattie laughs and touches his arm – you roll your eyes. “That would be marvelous, darling.” She’s speaking in English now, but hinting at a French origin with the dialect.

_You have to have an air of mystery, dear._ Mother’s voice floats hauntingly through your brain. _That's what will catch even the most powerful._

You chug the fruity cocktail he brings you.

 

\---

 

_drip . . ._

“Did you have fun last night, kitten?” Mattie appears again, startling you.

 

You pull your eyes away from the body to her wicked smile, her mouth coated in red blood. You think hard, trying to muddle through the haze of the night, and are rewarded with the memory of feeling powerful. Fuzzy pictures of bloody claws flash disorderly through your mind. You can't help but smile at that.

 

Mattie’s own smile widens, and she pulls you off the bed to wrap you in a hug. “Wonderful! Now, it's time to get out of this town. I'm sure news of the panther attack has already spread.”

 

\---

 

The American’s eyes widen at the sudden absence of your drink, but he turns back to Mattie without a word. “So, what are a couple of gals like you doin’ here?”

 

He sounds genuinely curious, but you’re not very trusting. You’re about to tell him to fuck off, when Mattie cuts in with a loud, exagerated sigh. “We’re here for a funeral, dear.”

 

The glass shatters in your hand.

 

\---

 

_drip . . ._

 

“What should we do about him?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it.

 

Mattie eyes the hanging body critically for a moment before shrugging. “Leave him. They’ll assume he got caught up in the massacre.”

 

_drip . . ._

 

You leave him hanging.


End file.
